Hollowed Out Stone
by FatGlamour
Summary: I left my dreams at a hollowed out stone Abandoned my friends, left all alone... DHr, Oneshot


_**Hollowed Out Stone**_

_I left my dreams at a hollowed out stone_

_Abandoned my friends, left all alone,_

_Rid of the things that I used to feel_

_Deceived and betrayed and shot at to kill_

He didn't know why he was there. He didn't know how the wards had even let him pass by the gates, but they had, creaking open as soon as he reached them.

It had been months since he had been there on those grounds, but he knew where he was going.

He wasn't a fool to believe himself the only one who mourned after the old man. But he thought that perhaps, it wasn't Dumbledore that he truly missed – he'd never liked the codger anyway and that was no secret to anyone. No, he supposed that what he missed was an idealistic world, with nothing to worry about but how to get Potter into trouble, make Weasel angry, and somehow, best the impenetrable Granger.

He wanted back the simplicity of a world without brands that marked the selling away of your soul.

"_You're not a killer, Draco."_

Perhaps not, but he was bloody good coward.

He hadn't been able to kill Dumbledore.

And he hadn't been able to kill her. He had let her go when she had been captured, untied her and gave her a portkey to get out of the Riddle House. He hadn't been able to look into her suspicious eyes, partly because he was afraid of what they would make him do, and partly because he knew if he started looking he'd never stop.

"_Why are you saving me, Malfoy?"_

"_I'm not."_

"_But… you are."_

"_Granger, do you not know anything? What Slytherins do is for their own benefit. Always."_

"_And what are benefiting from this?"_

"_It's none of your business! Get out of my sight before they find us both!"_

"…_Thanks, Malfoy."_

"_Stupid, mudblood, it's not personal."_

But it was. It was personal, too personal for him to be entirely comfortable with.

The only way he was able to make that portkey, and make it untraceable – at least Dark Arts was good for something other than perverse pleasures – was to make it with a piece of him. Her portkey, her saving grace, had been a smoky glass bottle with an ounce of his blood. And Granger had known what it was, and how much it had cost him.

It cost him so much that now he could no longer control himself around her. To protect her was everything. He had realized that during the last battle.

He had been on the sidelines, disillusioned, shooting down people from both sides, whatever struck his fancy really. And then, he saw her, dueling with his father. Lucius had taunted her and then hit her with a cutting curse that was too fast for her to dodge. When that deep cut had come across her cheek, Draco's heart had begun to thunder within him. He became almost blind with rage and the urge to shield her from anything meant to harm her almost smothered him.

No one knew he was in love with Hermione Granger.

Well, except, maybe her. No doubt she would have figured it out by now.

_I gave my heart to a stupid girl_

_With my love, I burned my world_

_Left my dreams at a hollowed out stone_

_Wishing his arms would have been my own_

"What are you hiding from me?!"

A man's angry voice cut through the serenity around him. Draco's hand went immediately to his wand and he gripped it tightly in his right hand, sweat beading on his forehead. He reached back and pulled his hood up in a half-hearted effort to conceal himself.

A part of him wanted to be caught by the Order – if only just to see her again.

"Ronald, I _don't_ have to tell you _everything_ about my life!"

It was _her_ with _Weasley_.

Draco gritted his teeth and gripped his wand tighter in his hand. With a quick, silent spell to ensure that his feet did not make any noise against the ground, he eased his way between the bare saplings and bushes. He stopped when their figures came into view some odd feet away from him, Weasley's back to him. They stood there facing each other, Weasley's neck flushed with anger and his angel standing opposite the prat, her chin raised defiantly and cheeks flushed in irritation.

He couldn't help but be proud of her.

"Why do you keep coming out here, Hermione? It doesn't change anything to–!"

"I _know_, Ron!" She stalked away from him and walked up to the white tomb. She laid her hand reverently on top of it and bent to kiss the cold stone. A tear rolled down her cheeks and she surveyed the lake and the snow covered grounds. Suddenly, as if she had known all along he was there, her eyes turned and locked with his.

_She looked over his shoulder_

_Smiling at me in the cold December_

_Found my dreams at a hollowed out stone_

_Found my heart, no longer on my own_

"I just have to remember is all," Her voice shook as she spoke and she suddenly wrapped her arms around herself as if cold.

With a small smile at Draco's tense form, she reached up to finger the small bottle that hung at her neck – the little bottle that he had used to seal his covenant with her – and whispered again, almost as an afterthought, "Love doesn't let you forget."

Suddenly, she twirled away from Draco and the tomb and glanced at Weasley as she passed him, him staring at her curiously. "I don't think you'll be able to understand. So for now… just leave me alone."

And in the dark, standing so near the grave of the man he had once sworn to kill, Draco dreamed of better days and made his own way to the castle – for redemption.

For her.


End file.
